Call 1-300 Anakin!
by CC-645
Summary: [SPECIAL EDITION CHAPTER] A short story poking fun at Australian TV ads, tradesmen, phone relays, and Anakin's unique talents. Warning: Partially serious - not all humour. Sort of a backstory/tie-in for "Get Your Facts Straight". And of course, it's an AU. Written as a compensation for the Great Update Drought.
1. Part 1

**Call One Three-hundred, Anakin**

**Part I. Of Politics and Finance**

"Order! Oder! Order in the Senate!" came Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's calm voice amidst the ruckus pervading the Great Convocation Chamber of the Senate Building. "My dear Senators, please, calm down, or this debate shall not yield us any results!" Somehow this managed to quieten the thousand-or-so yelling beings currently in the chamber. Or maybe the audio amplification cut-off switch achieved that effect, we shall never know.

Palpatine nodded to Mas Ameda who reactivated the audio systems and announced, "Senator Burtoni, you have forty-five standard seconds to make your arguments."

The Kamino System repulsorpod floated into the centre of the chamber and Halle Burtoni started up her sales pitch, "My esteemed colleagues, with our resent losses in the Mid Rim and the tragic murders of three Jedi Generals at Hypori, I propose that the Republic order an additional seven hundred thousand clones to combat the ever-increasing separatist war machine. With this new threat, Grievous, it is our duty to our constituents to–" The Kaminoian was thankfully cut off by Mas Ameda.

"Senator Organa, you have an objection?"

"Yes Vice Chancellor, thank you. Senators, if we fund this purchase of more clones then we will put severe strain on our infrastructure, social systems and even other military departments!"

And so it went on, the usual back-en-forth between the Militarists and the Loyalists. This was nothing unusual, not for the senate. A_t least,_ Master Windu remarked to himself, _the Jedi Council isn't that bad._

* * *

Some insignificant five hours later the highest members of the Council were assembled in the Chancellor's Office. They were assembled, but many were in a different realm entirely. Councillor Windu for instance, while keeping his hood up, was peacefully dosing in the plush chair, Ki Adi was covering up yawns with liberal Force-suggestions and even Yoda was beginning to nod off on his gimer stick. Only Kenobi and Skywalker were wide awake. How could this pair not be? Some said that they never slept. Others joked that they dismantled Separatist fortresses in their sleep. Whatever the truth, it wasn't the case now.

"Master, stop trying to wheedle your way out of paying up. That was an Idiot's Array right there, I won fair and square. You owe me $40 credits. Now pay up old man!" Obi-Wan just sighed. He knew he should never have challenged his former apprentice to a game of Sabacc, after all he was the champion of the Underground Temple Tournament.

"Fine you rascal…" came the disgruntled response as Obi-Wan slapped the requisite chips into the proffered hand.

"Thanks Master, you're the best!" Anakin's smile would've fooled no one, but he didn't need to do so this time, "Oh look, old gramps finally decided to join us. Master Windu, wake up!"

Old gramps, a.k.a. Chancellor Palpatine, indeed decided to adjourn the Senate session and retire to his office; after all, he got the vote he needed. "Ah, Masters Jedi, come in. Come in!" he cheerily waved the group in, not noticing that they were already seated. "I have good and bad news gentlemen: the bad news is that I have bad news from the senate. The good news is that I also have good news…"

Anakin stopped listening to the elderly man's prattle. True, Palpatine was a close friend of Anakin, the keyword being was. Ever since the war began, the politician seemed to be going barmier more and more. The chap began to dish out advice to Anakin, things along the lines of "You are becoming the most gifted Jedi in the history of the Jedi…" or "I _sense_ you will be great one day…" or even the most creepy one, "Trust your feelings Anakin, you will know that **I** am your father."

"Anakin, he's finished!" hissed the latter's Master, giving the younger man a jab in the ribs.

"—day's vote unfortunately didn't go in our favour. The senate chose to cut funding to the Jedi Order." Palpatine somehow managed to paste on an apologetic smile, though deep inside he was practically dancing in delight. "The good news, on the other hand, is that I have managed to reroute those funds to the Clone Army."

_Good news indeed!_ Though Jedi of this generation were not meant for war, they still disagreed with Senators such as Mon Mothma of Chandrila or Padmé Amidala of Naboo, in that the war was impossible to stop diplomatically, and if the Order lost funding, then they were not able to lead their troops effectively. Master Windu decided to stress this point, to which the Chancellor simply replied,

"I understand my friend, but what can I do against so many people. It was hard enough to make sure that those funds didn't go into the greedy pockets of half the Senators. I'm afraid that the Jedi Order will have to devise a means of funding on its own."

Obi-Wan, still sore after his loss to Anakin, decided to jump in with a wicked plan for revenge on his former apprentice. "Why don't we use Anakin," he suggested stroking his beard, "After all, he's a Galactic Hero. The publicity we could get— …That's not to mention, if he started a business, we'd be shovelling credit chips by the bucketful." Anakin, predictably, glared. However, Yoda seemed to be rather fond of the idea.

"A great idea that is, Master Kenobi, do it you will, young Skywalker?"

Anakin shook his head frantically, "No not happening, I'm not voluntarily going on the HoloNet. Don't even think about it!" Suddenly he was brought up short at the sight of the gleam in Master Yoda's eyes.

"So sure are you, hmm? A council vacancy we have…" All heads in the room snapped to the green Jedi. As everyone's attention was on the Grand Master, no one saw Chancellor Palpatine's face contort with enough anger to melt Hoth.

"Well, in that cave I might reconsider my position…" Skywalker pronounced slowly, "After all, I have a duty to the Jedi Order."

Yoda knew he'd won, he just needed to cement it. "When fifty-million credits you reach, a master you will become. Deal do I have, hmmm?"

There wasn't a choice involved, for there was only one answer – yes. Ever since he became a Jedi, Anakin dreamed of going up the next step, master and then councillor. So what if he was going to do things a little bit differently?

After that was settled, and after exchanging farewells, the Jedi departed the Chancellor's office. Anakin was exuberant, Palpatine was nearly throwing a tantrum. How could this be? He, the Dark Lord of the Sith had a brilliant plan to turn the Chosen One into an ultimate weapon, and then comes that blasted green troll and upstages everything! Everything!

* * *

**See you soon!**


	2. Part 2

**Ok, first of, thank you to "Celtice and Dukakis 2016" and "JediChick101" for reviewing and the latter for following this story.  
**

**Maybe I wasn't quite clear at first: Though this is a humour story, it also encompases serious aspects to form a proper (sort of) plot. It is hard to have all-fun-no-plot kind of fics. Hard to read, hard to write, what do I say?  
**

**Well, I'll just shut up now.**

* * *

**Part 2 – At Home…**

_Call One-three hundred Anakin, he will get it done!_

_From fixing up a speeder, to fighting Exar Kun!_

_If you need something to blow, get Skywalker on the go!_

_Need to crash a real-big dreadnaught?_

_He's a really good consultant!_

_Need to go defeat some Sith? _

_He will give those horn-heads grief!_

_Why don't ya go, call One-three hundred Anakin? _

_Recommended by Old Palpatine!_

Senator Padmé Naberrie Amidala, and secretly Skywalker, stared mouth agape at the holovid playing out before her eyes. She knew her husband was a little bonkers in the head – all Jedi were, especially from Tatooine – but _that_ was just simply far too insane for even him. What in the nine Corellian hells to which Anakin so often alluded to, was he up to, starting a business and running _insane_ commercials on the HoloNet?

_That does it!_ She mentally roared as the final frame appeared, showing a comlink atop some kind of mask, _When he gets back, I'm gonna turn to the Dark Side on him. Never mind I'm not farce-sensitive_.

* * *

As it turned out, Padmé was very good at keeping her word. As Anakin's speeder drifted down to the wide open balcony, he was met with a blaster barrel to the face.

"Explain Skywalker!" she hissed, stabbing her free finger in the direction of the holoscreen.

Anakin nervously laughed, grinned, ran his prosthetic hand through his hair and repeated these actions a few more times before managing to feebly defend himself, "Look Padmé, I can explain! It's the Jedi!"

"Really?"

"Y-yes, you see—Remember that vote…?" That got Padmé's attention, though she still didn't let up on her glare. "The Jedi lost their funding so they got me to help, me being a war hero and all…"

Now she got it, that explained a lot, but still she had to ask. "Why the ridiculousness?"

"Publicity." Was her only response as Anakin absently recalled the blaster to his hand, tossed it through the doorway and onto the couch, and headed for the fresher.

* * *

Late evening draped a shroud over Coruscant as the Senator and Jedi finished their dinner and moved to their primary living space. The two, after a brief argument, finally agreed on a channel and turned on the holoscreen.

"And please welcome Admiral Wullf Yularen, our guest reporter for Jedi News," the Mon Calamari anchor announced. The war took a lot of time from the Jedi, therefore they were not always available for interviews, to deal with that, the board at HNN decided to request guest reporters, either informed admirals, senatorial aides or Jedi auxiliaries. And so far, in the war's third year, the system seemed to be working.

"Thank you." A new voice said as the holocam switched to an interior view of a bridge belonging to the _Negotiator XVIII _– the current flagship of the Open Circle Fleet. "I have just returned from a brief mission with Padawan Tano who chose to inform me of the talk amidst the Jedi ranks. Most Padawans and Knights are rather disgruntled with the Senate over the recent funding cut. The figures before you should explain why. With this cut, Jedi will not be able to acquire armour, and will have to revert to using substandard Comlinks and other gear on their mission which will put their lives in peril and endanger the Republic. In a surprising move however, General Skywalker has started a large-scale publicity campaign to help his comrades. He has also started an organisation called _Skyrunner Inc._ which will cater to various needs from mechanical repairs, to Jedi-style bounty hunting, to demolitions and pyrotechnics. You can read him, or his annoying protocol droid by calling one-three hundred Anakin, that's 1 300 26 25 46. And that's Jedi News on the HoloNet with Admiral Yularen of the Open Circle…"

Padmé looked to her husband, "And what is this company of yours?"

Anakin, feeling a lot more confident, nonchalantly waved a hand, "Oh, nothing much, what he said. Mechanics, demolition, I'm also gonna do a few undercover podraces… just a normal day at the office for a Skywalker…."

* * *

**Oh and, this story's chapters will be short, **

**Till next time  
**

**May the Fiction be with You  
**


	3. Part 3

**Ah, to Korriban with long chapters...**

* * *

**Part 3: Much stock in stocks**

"And in finance news now," the same old Mon Cal anchor rasped, "Banking Clan shares have fallen point-eight of a per cent, HolCo struggling after several communication relays were hit, HNE has gained twenty credits, and most surprisingly, after only three weeks on the exchange, Skyrunner Inc. shares have soared. Secretary Tano reports their current profit is in the high eight-hundred-thousands. And on major currencies, one Republic credit is currently buying two-point-o-seven C. I. S. credits…..."

Dooku killed the holoscreen at that. After the currency comparison, there was nothing worth watching in the bulletin. Weather was too wide-spread and sport – well, it was stupid. This report intrigued him however, more than usual. Tano, wasn't that the name of Skywalker's brat? Ah, and what was that business about Sky-whatsy-thingy Inc.?

Thinking it was worth checking out, but being too lazy to do it himself, the Count yanked his comlink to his hand with the Force and dialled Grievous' quickring code.

"Khowgh, cph, you have reached the khvoicekhail of General Grievous. If you are getting this message, I'm probably killing Jedi, defeating the Republic scum, or otherwise occupied. Please leave a message after the scream and press the pound sign when done."

Dooku wrinkled his forehead, couldn't his infernal general make a descend message. Ah, no. He was made for war, not finesse or protocol. "Grievous, research what Skywalker and his Padawan have been up to in the past month or so, get to it. Dooku out."

* * *

That night the Count was awakened by a chime emanating from his comm station. When, after smoothing his sleepwear and assembling his face into a proper visage, he accepted the call, the distinctive skull of a Geonosian formed on the vidscreen. If I was to record the messenger's words in his tongue, then you would not understand a thing. So, for your convenience, here is the Basic analogue:

"My Lord, General Grievous has tasked me – his **top** intelligence operative – with investigating the Skywalker company, " after waiting for the Count's acknowledgment he continued, "apparently the Senate has cut funding to the Jedi Order, forcing them to employ desperate measures. Skywalker has been parading himself on every commercial, cover or advertisement that he could get himself on. Furthermore, he has launched a company known as 'Skyrunner Inc.' which is currently gaining momentum. So far he has opened a repair shop on Coruscant and I hear that some of the best mechanics in the Republic are attempting to get positions there. The HollowNet is cycling several adds displaying Skywalker's various qualifications, and has just confirmed the imminent launch of the entertainment subdivision, ridiculously dubbed 'Skyrunner Entertainment'. A more thorough report is present in the data package I'm sending you."

The two exchanged the usual – or at least for CIS command – goodbyes, signed off, and departed in equally demonstrative huffs.

* * *

Darth Sidious was not happy. Extremely not happy. At first he thought that Yoda's – he couldn't bear to call the other 'master'— plan was utterly Ludacris. The scheme would fall through, the Council would blame Skywalker, and **he** would be there to pick up the pieces. But no, Skywalker just _had_ to be that popular. _Well_, he thought to himself, it was his fault in a way. If not for him, Skywalker wouldn't be as famous. _Decade-long master plans suck!_

But then, unexpectedly, Sidious got an idea, a truly ingenious idea. Cackling with delight he bounded across the room to a comm terminal and punched up Dooku.

"Mmyyy apprentissss, I have a new plaaan…."

* * *

**I do not appreciate fics fully devoted to voicemail messages, or emails, or whatnot, but I do not disregard some humorous potential they have, as evidenced here.**

**May the Fiction Be With You  
**


	4. Part 4

**Apologies for the eighteen hour delay.  
**

**A thank you to "weathergirl17248" for adding her comments, and a sustained thank you to my other reviewers on this fic.  
**

**Another thanks goes to the guest reviewer "epic" who commented on, '_No, I am your Master'_  
**

* * *

**Part 4. At the Office**

A yellow speeder streaked through the Coruscanti air lanes deftly avoiding its unwieldy counterparts. That, of course, had nothing to do with the speeder itself, but with its pilot, a certain black-clad Jedi Knight and recently appointed High Councillor who was altogether enjoying himself far too much for his station and the behavioural patterns associated with it.

"…and we'll be back right after the following commercial," The Jedi Knight perked up, yea _he_ organised most commercials for his widely expanding conglomerate, but still, what sounds good in the studio, doesn't always do so on speeder speakers. This time it did. A professionally clipped and accented voice began rattling off what to listeners should supposedly sound descriptive, attention-grabbing and generally make them want to follow up on whatever they heard. "If you need something shipped safely and in a timely manner _Skyrunner Freight_ is your best bet. Protected by the men of the five-o-first legion, your goods will be picked up at a site of your choosing and speedily (point nine past lightspeed) delivered to any location in Republic or neutral space. So for cheap and efficient shipping call one-three hundred Anakin, and dial four. That's thirteen double -zero, twenty-six, twenty-five, forty-six, and dial four. All part of Skyrunner Inc. conditions apply, call or visit online for details." Yep, he liked it. Anakin Skywalker liked his latest ad. Still smiling he brought his speeder to a halt near a certain 500 Republica penthouse and after checking that the balcony was clear, he sat his vehicle down.

* * *

_Being a CEO is hard, _was the only thing passing through Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker's mind at roughly fourteen hundred standard. He had fought for nigh on three years in the bloodiest war since the New Sith one a millennia ago. He had commanded legions of solders, entire armadas of ships, fought countless enemies, both living and not, and he still could not handle a galaxy-spanning corporation. It all started off with harmless teasing that turned into a ridiculous gambit that was supposed to fall through three days after it was proposed. Instead it swelled – no, that wasn't the right word, there wasn't a right word – to literally galactic proportions.

_Isn't it incredible,_ he mused as he walked over to the cooling unit, _how all it takes to gain a couple million credits is to appear on a few advertisements and open a repair shop of all things?_

Anakin's lunch was cut short before it could even begin by a comlink chime. One hand holding a plastefome container, his other began frantically checking his pockets. No it wasn't his military comm, nor was it the out-caller company unit, nor his wife, nor this Jedi comm, ah there it was, his company management comlink. "Skywalker here," he acknowledged, after smashing the appropriate control with his nose for lack of other appendages.

"Anakin, there's a situation at here, could you come over," course it had to be Obi-Wan, what now?

"Where's here this time Master?"

"The Chandrilan embassy, how soon can you get here?"

"About twenty if I disobey traffic regs, see ya then Master." He signed off. Tossing the container back in the cooler he used the Force to retrieve something resembling a sandwich and darted off to his speeder.

* * *

It is said that it doesn't matter if you passed the flight test or how hard you simmed, when you hit ecumanopolitan traffic, all that flies out the airlock. That wasn't quite true for Jedi. Those guys took their own flight test. They started with Coruscant's cluttered airways from age twelve. Well with Anakin it was age ten, so no surprise that while breaking half a score of regulations he still found the concentration to be grumpy about something.

Sure he appreciated the help that several senators gave the Jedi Order, but what he didn't appreciate were the offices scattered all over the northern hemisphere of Coruscant. Between his primary office at his wife's apartment, the comm relay station near GAR command, the studios and entertainment headquarters at the Chandrilan embassy, and now the new shipping centre in the Corellian complex, he was going to consume more fuel than a Republic Cruiser. Maybe he should just – hey that was a good idea, he would have to remember to raise that up at the next board meeting.

* * *

Anakin arrived into a scene of utter chaos. Apart from the usual embassy stuff milling around in the facility's corridors, several company officials were rushing to and fro between their workstations, supervisor offices and the large conference room set aside for their use. Inside the situation wasn't much better, around a large twenty seater table sat chief secretary Tano, Wullf Yularen of the logistics council, some guy called Antilles in charge of the shipping branch, captain Rex of security, senator Organa in charge of the Entertainment subdivision, Mon Mothma of public relations and customer services, and of course, a suit-wearing, vice chair Kenobi. Anakin still snickered every time he saw his old master, if he thought seeing him in General's dress uniform was hilarious, the black suit and tie would be enough make even Mace Windu laugh if Korun Master would show up some time. The aforesaid person was studiously avoiding all HoloNet press releases and offices like the plague. Some began to have suspicions that he was deliberately hiding up at the Temple so as not to crack his infamous mask of solemnity.

Somehow the group managed to quieten down, and when after grabbing a cup of caf Anakin took his customary seat at the head of the table, a hitherto unnamed individual spoke up. "Chief Skywalker I am Erathuur Bwua'tu, legal advisor and corporate attorney, Master Kenobi hired me on to aide in legal matters." The room stilled even more, if that was possible as the Bothan took a breath and announced, "Passel Argente is suing you for affiliate discrimination…."

* * *

**Cue a circular zoom fade-out and the classic Star Wars end title for my lousy attempt at a cliffhanger...**

**The Fiction will be with you, untill next time that is...  
**


	5. Part 5

**Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

**Part 5. Business as usual**

Anakin was tired, really tired. If not for the Force he probably wouldn't be sitting upright now. But well, how much was that due to the Force anyway? And how much was due to the crash restraints in his speeder? He couldn't tell. It was all he could do to use the Force to guide the steering controls in a reasonably safe manner – reasonably being the key word. His only consolation was that his Master, the famous Obi-Wan Kenobi, and their Bothan advocate Bwua'tu along with Mothma and Rex, were all out cold. On the other hand, was that a good thing? For the four of them were sprawled in an undignified heap in the back of his speeder. If CSF were to stop him, he wouldn't be able to use Force-persuade against them in his current state. Luckily the boys in blue were busy on the other side of the Senate district and didn't bother him.

As he pulled up to his wife's balcony, some part of Anakin's mind remarked that two months ago he wouldn't even have contemplated bringing anyone to stay with him there, let alone a Jedi. Let alone his Master. _Just goes to show how much times change…_ that same part of his brain muttered morosely. Today was hard on them. To be fair, the whole week was hard on them. It was a month ago when Passel Argente got the brilliant idea to sue _Skyrunner Inc._ for affiliate discrimination, or in Basic, for not wanting to lose assets in Separatist space. Though the law suit was won, many other individuals thought it necessary to harass the beleaguered company. True it got loads of media attention, but their stocks had dropped drastically. Only in the past five days had matters improved, and that after a concerted publicity effort.

Primeday was spent in hurried staff meetings and business calls followed by a public lunch on Centaxday where Anakin announced yet another subdivision, labelled _Skyrunner Petroleum._ The day after, the group was at a fundraiser on Alderaan. A late afternoon ball on Chandrila proceeded by several conferences, conventions and a press release were there agenda on Zhellday. And Benduday was spent gallivanting all over the Core Worlds, attending corporate functions and staff meetings in hyperspace transit. In short everyone was dead tired.

With the aide of his – also tired and half-asleep – wife, Anakin managed to drag his companions into the apartment and lay them down with reasonable comforts on whatever furniture was available. Silently thanking Padmé for not asking any questions, Anakin collapsed on the bed and was dead to the world for the rest of the night and a good deal of next morning.

* * *

Morning came bright and early, but most of the apartment's occupants weren't awake to greet it. C-3PO doddered about, dusting whatever he would reach while listening to the chirps of his counterpart. Padmé N…(really long name)…walker wandered through her living room smiling gently at the sight that greeted her. Distinguished Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was snoring away on one of the form couches. A clone captain, her husband's if she wasn't mistaken was sprawled over the backseat of a familiar yellow speeder, and whaa? An elderly Bothan was trying to compete with Obi-Wan in 'the Galactic Snoring Championships' from the other couch. And … Padmé couldn't supress a giggle, though it wasn't loud enough to wake the others. Oh joy Obi was going to be quite embarrassed when he awoke. Oh he would be…. Still chuckling, the Senator moved to the kitchen to begin preparing a breakfast for six.

It was late when everyone woke up. Or to be more accurate, it was ten hundred hours when Anakin stumbled into the living room and saw the same sight as his wife. He however wasn't able to control his laughter and his guffaw instantly aroused his former Master, who in turn, conveyed a sound of distress loud enough to even wake Rex out on the veranda.

Apparently while setting everyone to bed last night, Padmé covered the Jedi Master with one of her large senatorial robes. It was large, and warm, and distinctly feminine. If the media got just one shot of that scene, the company would have one **BIG** headache. Not to mention the Negotiator himself. And to make matters even worse – if that was physically possible – Chandrilan senator Mothma was slumped in an armchair beside the couch. You go try explain to the tabloids that everyone was dead tired, and that there was no room! You try quoting the Jedi Code to the public! Images and carefully doctored facts are very hard to disprove in the eyes of the populous.

Before anyone could say anything, Obi-Wan declared the situation a Jedi and Military secret of highest sensitivity. He only settled down after sending Artoo to conduct a security sweep, covering up the windows, and sitting as far away from both senators at the breakfast table as possible.

"Sho," Padmé asked no one in particular with her mouth full, "What'w you been doing to get you thish tiwed?"

"Ah, we were on call yesterday, Padmé…" Obi-Wan replied in the same manner, only after an elbow jab from his former pupil though. He didn't say 'senator' or add any other honorific. He learned that the hard way. For all her prowess in the Senate, Padmé Amidala was far too fond of aggressive negotiations – negotiations with a blaster. The story goes like this: One day a Republic CR25 crashes onto the apartment's specially reinforced balcony (that was an inevitable upgrade with Anakin around) and two dirty, grimy, bloody, Force knows what else-Jedi stumble out. One is her husband with a short-circuiting prosthetic, and the other a battered, brooded, broken-nosed Negotiator. After a two hour clean up and impromptu medical treatment, the group settles down for a late dinner. Obi-Wan keeps calling her 'Senator', 'Milady' and what have you even when she asks him to quit it. So with her patience at an end, she whips out her hold-out blaster, waves it in the Jedi Master's face, and threatens to send Anakin after him if he doesn't comply. Anakin is too frightened to object, after all he has no wish to dust the floors and hand wash Padmé's myriad gowns.

The conversation progressed nicely, the group casually discussing normal things for a change. But inevitably, as all such conversations must, talk turned to business. Someone asked about the war, Obi-Wan I think replied that the Outer Rim Sieges were moving along nicely. Rex reported that there was a situation on Cato Neimodia which might require their attention, Erathuur brought them up to date on the latest legal developments, Padmé was about to ask something or another when Artoo rolled in.

A few chirps brought a frown down upon Anakin's face. "What did you find on the balcony?" In response the astromech extended a grasper arm and handed over a little chip. Anakin's face went white as Royal Naboo make-up. His suddenly dry throat could only rasp two words, "ccam chip…"


	6. Part 6

**Thanks to all my reviewers! This story has collected 15 comments, more than any three of my stories combined!  
**

**Special thanks goes to _Count Mallet_ for his input, I laughed at your comments man, and thanks for your suggestion.  
**

**Also, please excuse the delay, I have nothing to say for myself but one word - life.  
**

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**Part 6. An Odd Day for an Odd Job**

"Greetings, you have reached Skyrunner Incorporated's comm relay," droned a mechanical voice from the other side of the headset, "For our mechanical and repair department, dial zero-two, for the entertainment subdivision, please dial zero-three, for shipping please dial zero-four…" Count Dooku zoned off. He thought that it was the exclusive privilege of the Confederacy to have long-winded call relays. As a Knight of the Jedi Order he never had reason to comm people now, running a galactic entity, he had to do those kinds things. Maybe the Separatists weren't all that different as opposed to the Republic. He didn't know, and he couldn't care less. All he was doing, was waiting for his Master to take control of the galaxy and to over through him. The Count, for once, listened to the Force as it told him the right moment to tune back in, "…For special services please dial two-nine, to replay the options, dial zero-z—" he jammed his finger on the keys necessary to reach special services. Friendly music (namely _Across the Stars _interspersed with _Duel of the Fates_) played on for about thirty standard seconds until a pleasant voice cheerfully announced, "All of our operators are currently occupied. Please hold the line while the queue advances…"

Ten… twenty… thirty minutes…. An hour… two… three…. For three hours it went on, two tunes repeating over and over again. Count Dooku was afraid that if he sat here for much longer, he would go bonkers. That required a fix. An urgent fix. Alright, Ventress was who knows where, so that left Grievous. Keeping one ear open just in case, the Count grabbed a comlink out of his pocket and speed-dialled his top general, "Grievous," he barked when the call was accepted, "I'm forwarding a communique, wait until it is accepted on the other end and forward it back to me…" Before the other could object, the Count terminated the call. Feeling very satisfied, Dooku left his office and walked off with a spring in his step, he didn't even notice that as he walked, a whistling left his lips, following the second melody's pattern, "Shhh-sh—shhh-sh –shh-sh-shh-sh-sh..."

* * *

Darth Sidious had one big headache. One BIG headache... And if he ever – **ever – **caught the person who orchestrated it, they'd wish they never existed. No, it wasn't his fault that he made the Chosen One so popular. And it definitely wasn't his fault that his plans were ruined by that green rascal. And so not his fault, that Skyrunner Inc. had higher profits than the Intergalactic Banking Clan. And neither was it his fault that all the people he tasked with ruining the company failed under the combined might of the Negotiator and that Bwua'tu character. Nope, none of it was his problem.

Sidious felt his anger increase more and more. Anger was good, but not now, not while the Jedi were strong. The Sith had never learned the art of releasing feelings to the Force, all they could do was mask them, or burry them, or eliminate the irritant. That's what the resident walking-corpse chose to do. He stretched out a hand and pulled a newscard to his hand. The holoprojector lit up when the card was inserted and the title appeared, _Coruscant Times_.

Palpatine read the article. First he stared at it for several minutes, then he bashed his head on the desk before him – full Force (pun indented). Lucky for Darth Sidious, he had a hard head, unlucky for the desk, the head was harder than the wood.

When the Chancellor would not be present for that afternoon's Senate session, Mas Ameda would go in search of him. The Chagrian would find the leader of the Republic still unconscious and the desk splintered and cracked. After awakening in a med-centre the Sith would reveal himself to his deputy and clue him in on the plan before choking him to death. It is unknown how Palpatine would handle that, but that is all in the future, let us return to the present, only to a different place.

* * *

Only twenty minutes have passed since the cam chip incident as we return to 500 Republica, after the scare everyone got, everyone decided that they needed a BIG breakfast to deal with the day ahead. Padmé Amidala was just taking a sip of tea when C-3PO dropped in, a datapad in hand. "Mistress Padmé! Mistress Padmé! Your morning newscard has arrived!"

"You read newscards?" That was Obi-Wan. Coruscant was known on a galactic scale for many things – third-worst traffic congestion, second-worst underworld from the core to the mid rim, and worst ever media. Practically nothing you saw or read was true. There were only a handful news groups that could be respected, so considering the kind of Senator Padmé was, it was a shock to find her reading anything. She explained to the grouped that _Coruscant Times_ was one of those rare groups that warranted any positive attention, and taking another sip of tea she activated the datapad.

What a good thing that all Jedi get first-aid training. Just to explain why Sidious smashed his head on his desk, and why Padmé nearly died before Mustafar, I'll insert an excerpt from the cover article:

* * *

**Negotiator in Peril!  
**_**By A. H. Tyrr – 16:4:31GrS – Galactic City**_

Famed Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Clone Wars hero, more commonly referred to as the _Negotiator_ is currently set to face a media onslaught. Images have emerged from an anonymous source displaying the Jedi staying overnight at 500 Republica. Though to most citizens this would not prove to be anything of interest, several tabloids are pushing the idea of a possible violation of the Jedi Code. Especially since at least two images show him in close proximity with Senator Mothma of Chandrila.

As we pride ourselves on delivering accurate news, we find it necessary to state that Master Kenobi was not it any contact with the Senator. Some images even show a Bothan and a Clone Captain in the apartment, along with General Skywalker. This leads to the conclusion that they may have returned from a corporate function.

…But to truly judge the validity of these rumours, questions will have to be raised in the next press conference as scheduled two days from now.

* * *

I guess that shows why everyone's worried… For worried they are. Captain Rex has chosen to order an entire company from the five-o-first to come in as an additional security detail, and all occupants are preparing for a siege.

* * *

Back on the _Invisible Hand_ General Grievous patience was running out. He had been listening to the same two tracks for eight hours straight, finally he chose to delegate that duty to a MagnaGuard while he stomped all over the ship humming _"Across the Stars"._

* * *

On Sereno, the location of which the Jedi seemed to be oblivious of, Count Dooku was sleeping, at least until his comm chimed. He was instantly awake when a thick mechanical voice informed him that the droid had reached Skyrunner In. "Welcome you have reached the _special services relay. _We appreciate your patience, however we were dealing with a backlog of calls. If you would like to reach the demolitions department, dial zero-two, for the pyrotechnics department, dial zero-three, for crashlanding capital ships, dial zero-five…" And Dooku did.

* * *

It was the next day back on Coruscant, and that night the sleeping arrangements were planned out much more carefully. The morning would have been like the previous one, had it not been for the swarms of sleazy reporters and their holocams blockading the apartment. As a consequence of that, all the windows were shuttered, turned opaque, barricaded and interference systems set up to not allow audio probes to pick up on the conversations inside. Breakfast was spent in friendly chatter, as Obi-Wan was finishing his third cup of tea – and Padmé her seventh – Anakin's comlink chimed. From then on proceeded a by now familiar routine where the _Hero with No Fear but lots of Comlinks_ checked every single one until he found the one that was actually ringing. It was his _crash_ comm.

"Skywalker here, crash department. How can I help you?"

"Skywalker, its Dooku. I require your assistance…" came the voice from the other end. Everyone was shocked, stunned and speechless. After all, how often does the enemy head of state contact you not with a death threat, but a business request?

"Is this a prank? Or have I gone completely barmy? Must have been that knock on the head two weeks back…"

"Skywalker, don't be stupid. I need you to crash a Providence-Class Destroyer into the abandoned Works District on Coruscant," everyone was speechless yet again until Anakin managed to croak out,

"Why?"

"For a holodrama. Two million credits Skywalker…." Anakin hesitated, "Three million," and still hesitated, "Four million," Anakin was still uncertain, "Ten million and the lead role as yourself!" That did it for Anakin,

"Alright Dooku, you got yourself a deal…"

* * *

**One chapter to go,**

**Just a question, has anyone figured out what I wrote in Aurebesh on the front cover?  
**

**May the Fiction Be With Us All  
**


	7. Part 7

**Last Chapter!  
**

**Congrats to those who figured out the Aurebesh!**

* * *

**Part 7. ROTS – Reprisal of the Skyrunners**

It was the third Zhellday in the fifth month of the sixteenth year after the needless Great ReSynchronisation. Two Eta-2 Actis interceptors hurtled through Coruscanti space as a CIS cam-equipped starfighter followed them.

Aboard the two ships were Generals Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, two friends of thirteen years. The duo liked to bicker, and the conversation they were trying to have was quite entertaining.

"I thought I said I hate flying Anakin, why did you have to sign me up? Couldn't you come up with any other way to become a Master? Besides, flying is for droids!"

"Heh Master, suck it up. And remember, droids are flying all around us, the clone fighters and the droid ones?" It was true, the clone fighters were slave-rigged to simulators aboard several of the orbiting ships.

Okay, I think this necessitates an explanation. Some weeks back, Anakin Skywalker got a call from Separatist Count, Dooku, requesting assistance crashing a ship. After some one-sided bargaining, Anakin agreed to the Count's request on the condition that he would get the lead role in the holodrama Dooku was planning and ten million credits, enough to reach the requisite fifty million stated by master Yoda as necessary for him to obtain the rank of Master. So here they were with ships zipping left and right filming a space scene.

"Master, General Grievous' ship is directly – correction – the only one ahead,"

"One ship? Grievous must be really overconfident to attack the capital with just one ship!"

"They'll overlay a fleet in the post-production stages…" Anakin explained. Soon the duo were beset by torpedoes, buzz droids, and all manner of bad things, including tabloid holocams. If you would like to see what happened next, you should watch the (real) RotS. As it was, Anakin gleefully blasted the magcon field generator and landed his starfighter in the hangar, closely followed by his Master.

With initiate-like enthusiasm the two Jedi disassembled every single droid in the hangar, on the way to the turbolift, and in said lift. The pair agreed that the presence of Dooku aboard the ship in no way changed the deal for them, in fact it was a bonus, if they killed him, they could take over the holodrama and write it the way they wanted it to go, not Anakin becoming MFC (Mustafar Fried Chosen) at the end.

* * *

Darth Sidious was raving mad. He was madder then when Darth Maul was crisped. He was madder then when Dooku didn't kill Ventress. Madder even, then when Yoda suggested this infernal scheme, the start of this entire problem. He was really thankful for the shielding the Dark Side of the Force provided as he hurled things left and right in his _Works_ hideout.

"Soooo, Grievous… do you mean to tell me that it was your spy droid that captured those photos and that those were your spies that leaked them to the tabloids!"

"Yes milord, I thought that it would damage Kenobi's reputation if we could phony up those images and guide public op—"

"You didn't think!" Sidious was furious, really furious, so furious that he was sending a (disguised) message with the location of the Separatist Council and Grievous' most likely bolthole to the Jedi, "Do you even know what you've done? Kenobi was cleared of all suspicions and even got sympathy! Sympathy! And, what's worse, that blasted Skywalker launched another subdivision, mercenary groups dealing with designated tabloid and paparazzi targets! His shares have gone through the roof! Do you get what you've done?" Sidious blasted the holocomm unit with Force lightning. Bad mistake… Really bad mistake….

* * *

Meanwhile aboard the _Somewhat Visible Hand, _Anakin just finished killing Count Dooku at the urgings of a Clawdite that currently took the shape of Palpatine for the purpose of the film shoot. The _Hero with no Idea _picked up his Master's unconscious body, waited for a convenient gravity sheer and ran along a turbolift shaft.

* * *

On the bridge, General Grievous was rather confused, he tried so hard, and his lord didn't seem to appreciate his efforts. How was he supposed to know what was going to happen? Confusing wasn't right for a General. A commander had to be in control, so he decided to be angry, an emotion he was quite adept in. However his mood changed when the Chancellor of the Republic, along with two Jedi – both bound – were brought onto his bridge (important note: Dooku didn't tell the Grievous that Palpatine wasn't Palpatine).

"Chancellor, now that your escape attempt has failed, I hope that you will be more … agreeable. And the Negotiator, General Kenobi, we've been waiting for you. And young Skywalker, I would have expected someone with your reputation to be a little balder…"

"Sorry GG, I think you mixed me up with Mace Windu. I'm afraid your recognition systems are malfunctioning…" A couple of droids tittered in the background. As the general angrily turned to deal with them, he didn't see that Artoo cut open the group's bonds. Nor did he see the two Jedi's lightsabers before they were pointed at him. Thinking quickly, the General ordered his SBDs to kill the Chancellor. The Jedi didn't twitch a muscle. Not until the Clawdite reverted to its original state just before death. Then they smiled. Grievous was not liking where the situation was going, nor did he like being fooled. So he chose to sacrifice two of his arms to take the brunt of Anakin and Obi-Wan's attack. In those few seconds he managed to send an IR message to IG101 who promptly smashed the viewport with his electrostaff. The sudden decompression accounted for a few precious seconds of confusion which the cyborg used to escape onto the outer hull.

* * *

When the _Invisible Hand _became the _Amputated Finger_, when Grievous was on his way to Utapau, and when the bridge was void of droids and crew alike, Anakin sat in the pilot's seat, Obi-Wan at the co-pilot's station and Artoo used the dead Clawdite as a wedge to keep him in place beside the interface. In short, it was a nice day above Coruscant, or business as usual, depending on your point of view.

The ship was entering Coruscant's stratosphere by the time Obi-Wan cared to comment, "Anakin, do you have any idea where to crash safely? After all, this planet is an ecumanopolis…"

The reply was not long in coming, "I was going to try the Works District, they're abandoned, so yeah. And since I just felt a surge of Dark Side Force energy coming from that direction, why not kill to gizka with one stone?"

"Anakin, any Jedi can kill two gizka with one stone. The first time you through it, then you use telekinesis on the other one … bad analogy…"

"Aren't Jedi supposed to respect all life Master?"

"Gizka are some of many exceptions in that rule…"

* * *

In the apparently abandoned building, Darth Sidious stood, his eyes glued to the shape of the dreadnaught heading straight for his lair. If only he had been more attentive, well there was no use moping, he quickly judged the distance and thought it was worth a break for it. He pulled up his cumbersome robes and dashed to the nearest exit.

A pained huff escaped his lips as an object barrelled into his stomach with enough force (small 'f') to knock him on his back. He rolled his eyes to the side to see the object that had brought him and his plans to an untimely end. It was a gizka. A simple gizka merrily hopping about… Just as the he raised his hand to exact one last revenge, there was a terrible crash, a giant boulder was dislodged, and the Sith knew no more.

* * *

Oblivious to the fact that Anakin had just fulfilled his destiny, and killed a Sith so that he could not be sued for miss-advertisement, the two friends cheered and high-fived – or in Artoo's case, mid-twoed. A quick comm call later and they were on the way to 500 Republica and a well-deserved lunch.

**Epilogue: Another happy Ending**

It was the fifth year after the Battle of Geonosis, the Separatists were defeated, Artoo was making friends with droidekas, and Obi-Wan had GG's head transformed into a chandelier prominently displayed in his quarters. At the current moment, the council was in assembly as they were expecting a report. Anakin and Obi-Wan were merrily playing Pazaak, Yoda was humming "Sabers Clash" (A rewrite of "Jingle Bells" I might have to post that sometime…) and Mace was – who knows. The doors opened, and a Master –whose name is unimportant to the story– entered with his team, "Masters, we have completed our investigation of the Sith Lord Darth Sidious. It was the Chancellor…"

"Told you!" whooped Anakin, waving his hands in the air and inadvertently showing his cards to Obi-Wan.

"We found a body back were Master Skywalker crashed a ship that other time. The DNA matched Palpatine's. As we all know that place wreaks of the Dark Side. Besides, we found his personal journal. The funny thing is, it's got pictures of Ventress in it…."

"Old gramps had a crush on Dooku's apprentice?" Anakin wasn't LOLing, Anakin wasn't ROTFLOLing, Anakin needed to be smashed into a wall via the Force to stop laughing.

"Congratulations Skywalker Young, destiny your, fulfilled you have. Extinct the Sith are forever, or until rise again they do. (Yeah, he'd be swallowing those words if he knew of Kesh.)

"And with that, the current Sith incident has been dealt with," Obi-Wan declared joyously, "All we have to do is wait until they show up again and have some other Jedi kick their collective rears. By the way Anakin, I've finally got those fifty credits back…" He flashed a triumphant grin as he revealed his hand….

* * *

Somewhere on the Dark Side of the Force, two Sith Warriors dragged Sidious' spirit before the _Dead Council_. Strangely there was a Sith of Yoda's species, the ghost of Naga Sadow, Darth Bane, Ludo Kressh, Andeddu, Viciate, Malgus, in essence all the worst bad-guys out there. It is unclear what they did to poor Palps, but he was reduced to whimpering, "Please help! Phobos Help! I didn't mean for the Jedi to make Skywalker a long-term Council member! Heeeeelp!"

Suddenly there was a swirl of energies and a figure that none expected to appeared. A hood and mask covered its face, and the colours of the robes were hard to distinguish in the _Great Blue Glowy Beyond,_ however former Darth, but still Revan, was hard not to recognise. "Papertine, and I thought I was the worst Sith Lord on record!" he couldn't suppress his laughter "Look at me, and even I think you're an embarrassment to the Sith! I don't think we shall get involved with your punishment, I'll just call up Skywalker, what was it again, 13 00 26 25 46?"

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

**And that's that, lots of scrap ideas jammed into 7,940 relevant words.**

**I would like to thank everyone for reviewing this story, for subscribing and for being supportive. I was sitting there with a mad grin reading alll your reviews!  
**

**If you liked this story, you might want to check out "No, I am your Master"; "Get your Facts Straight"; "The Force"; or all the others located on my profile.  
**

**I'll have something else up sometime this month, not to worry,  
**

**May the Fiction Be With Us All  
**


	8. Special Edition

**The Sort-of Special Edition**

It was the twenty-seventh year after the Battle of Yavin, which somehow still happened, even though the chief bad guys were killed long before. In the almost half a century since the launch of _Skyrunner Inc._ the company had grown to levels on par with the Trade Federation from the good ol' times. Hosting a fleet triple the size of Kuat's Home Defence Armada, several hubs on worlds all over the Galaxy, and even a seat in the New Republic Senate, it was a Force to be reckoned with. Of course, having a vast amount of Jedi part of the organisation helped immensely.

While Chief of State Leia Naberrie Amidala Skywalker Organa Solo was busy kicking Opposition Leader Borssk Fey'lya from Terminus to Zygeria, Anakin Skywalker, Company Chief Executive Officer was having a bored meeting with well, the board, over breakfast. Public Relations Director, Mara Jade Skywalker, a DL-44 prominently displayed on her hip, paced all over the dining room, steaming mug of caf in one hand, and gesticulating intensely with the other.

"No, this will never do, why should we send our forces to aid at Duro if those squabbling Senators sit in their plush sofas and hardly bother with the war? Sometimes I actually think that Empire thing might have been a good idea. At least they had a unified military…"

"Hey Jade, don't make it sound like you're the only victim here!" That was Han Solo, Director of Commerce, "My trade fleet is suffering from those echuta Peace Brigaders!"

"Oi, language!" Cue the ever mature Tenel Ka, Hapan matriarch and soon-to-be wife to Jacen Solo, Senior Biological and Zoological Administrator. Ben Skywalker, who choosing to stuff all existing canon, was already eleven years old, interjected with a witty comment along the lines of, "I've heard uncle Han say much worse things than that, and uncle Lando has just taught me a particularly nasty swear in Bothese, so don't worry…"

Mara paled, and then summarily reddened in anger, "Calrissian has taught you what!"

Fortunately they were interrupted by Imperial Chief of State Jagged Fel, who also in defiance of accepted canon, got his position ahead of time. He was engaged to Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo, and held a position as Space and Aeronautical Armed Forces Commissioner in the Skywalker family business. "New call just came in, the Vong have overrun the twenty-second and are pushing towards the eighteenth."

"So?" That was Luke Skywalker, current Grand Master of the Jedi Order and _Men with Glowy Swords _liaison.

"That Master Skywalker, means that the Vong will soon reach Trading Hub Senth-67, which is barely defended because of the fleet action at Fondor."

A lightsaber ignited above Luke's head, the real deal, not metaphorically, you see, he was fond of pulling ridiculous stunts like that. "So, what are we—" Another interruption, this time by a comlink. Frantically everyone began searching their persons to see whose device was actually ringing. That was rather hard, as Jedi tunics are not known for pockets, robe leaves however, are.

Skip to next seen, where Anakin Junior finally pulled his comm from just beneath his collar, how did it get there anyway? …and proceeded to answer, "Anakin Junior Solo, Military Research and Hardware Development, Director on the line." Like his namesake, young Anakin was a superb mechanic, however whereas his sister headed the General Mechanics branch, i.e. ship repair, he was in charge of coming up with new goodies, from innovative ion canons, to hologame pads in retractable holsters to hide them from the adults.

"Anakin? Anakin Skywalker? I never guessed I'd meet the Great Anakin Skywalker!" it should be noted that the voice on the other end, fit the profile of an overly eager fan.

"I'm sorry, Anakin Skywalker is my grandfather, I am Anakin Solo, Director of MR&HD. How can I help you?"

You can imagine the following conversation for yourselves, complete with gushing and polite redirections closer to the point, so there is no need to take up space. Here is where the interesting part starts, please note that Anakin is speaking. "Say again Ms Janson, Chief Orgnana Solo wants me to build a third Death Star?"

"That is correct, Director Solo." The now identified Terrin Janson, current aide to the Chief of State's office.

"You know what, put her on, I want to hear this…" Twenty seconds after an acknowledgement, there was a sound of a door slamming open and shut several times, and a woman's voice bellowing in the background.

"How's your day been, sweety?"

"Mom, what's this about a Death Star?"

Please note that in the interests of being family friendly, and because LFL has not dained to supply us with alien curse words, that part of the story is omitted, we skip to the point where Leia says, "So I've just about had it with those politicians. Make sure that the battlestation is still capable of destroying planets, but try to tone the scale down a little, I'm not sure I'll be able to crew it. And be sure to avoid leaving the exhaust port so open!" the transmission cut off.

"What was that?" That came from Padmé,

"Nothing much, mom is just sick of all the squabbles so she wants me to build the next gen Floating Ball of Doom to take out the Vong and the Senate at the same time…"

"Can she do that?" Ben wondered.

"Of course she can! Don't you realise what our family is?" That enthusiastic comment was from Jaina, which most often signified oncoming doom. "Gramma is the Queen of Naboo. Gramps is Prince Consort or something, not to mention a Sith Lord. Uncle Luke is the Grand Master and Master of the Order, as well as a Nabooian prince. Mom is the princess of both Naboo and Alderaan, not even going to mention the part about her being the second CoS in the New Republic. Anakin's a Duke. Jace is soon to be Prince Consort of Hapes. I'm well … Duchess and Imperial High Lady, and Ben, he's a Count. Oh, and I forgot aunt Mara who by all rights is the heiress to Palpatine's empire and a Baroness. Dad, I'm not sure about him, is he a king of Corellia or isn't he?"

"Yeah, you got that right Jaina," That was a voice not heard yet, Tahiri the… well… what is she anyway? "Don't get me started on our titles among the Vong! Eeehh!"

And so, armed with flashy black robes, a not-so-giant Giant Floating Ball of Doom, and maniacal laughter, the Skywalkers took over the Galaxy, defeated the Vong, and gave them Detention on Zonama Sekot. By the time a trigger happy Ben blew up Centerpoint, the Sith Lords of old where turning in their tombs and groaning, and then came the Abeloth problem….

I guess Vestara must have been nobility or something, to fit the family quota. And as for Terrin Janson, she was killed in a not really accidental speeder crash. Upon writing a condolence letter to Wes, Anakin discovered that they weren't even related.

**The End … again, until I get a brilliant idea anyway….**

* * *

**What do I say? I felt like it! Yeah I know I spaced the canon, but this is AU. **

**Should I maybe try and write a sequel?  
**

**May the Fiction Be With You, and keep on reading!  
**


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